


Thrimilici

by HalfShadows



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Caravel, Eventual Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hate to Love, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Magic, Mind Games, Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stranded, The Boys are Forced to Work Together, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Who doesn't have issues?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfShadows/pseuds/HalfShadows
Summary: Sudden anger washed over Tony, hardening his vision. Why the hell did things like this keep happening to him? Was there some great cosmic plan with the only goal of screwing Tony Stark?If so, Tony could think of a lot more enjoyable ways to be screwed—and none of them involved Steve Rogers.“Do you realize how horrible this is?” The question burst from his chest, frightening away the silence.Tony blew out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I can think of a lot of worse things than getting stuck in space, without my suits and with you.”-----------------------------------------------------------OR the one with a treacherous carnival, a meddling magician, a dash of PTSD and angst, and two doofuses who refuse to admit they're not so different.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!! I'm super excited to share this with you—it's so much fun to write! 
> 
> This takes place before Avengers, but after Iron Man 2. Essentially, Tony and Steve do not know each other, and Tony is at the stage where he is rapidly building suits to protect those who he loves and fix his legacy. 
> 
> The main note is that I do not own any of these characters or anything really. This plot is heavily influenced by Caravel by Stephanie Garber (that is the whole idea of the magical game). Some quotes from it will be placed in italics. The welcome speech is from the book. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story! Please leave your comments—I love talking about the work with people!

A headache pounded against Tony’s brain like fireworks in his head. He popped another pill in his mouth, swallowing it dry, the fourth one today. It left a bad taste in his mouth but he didn’t stop to chase it down with water.

Tony felt like a ping-pong ball, shooting back and forth around his workshop. One minute his hands were manipulating a hologram in the far side of the room, puzzling out how to defend the suit against and EMP, and only a few moments later he was attempting to speed up the suit-up timing in the opposite corner. He was in constant conversation with Jarvis and his bots: directing movements, shouting out orders, talking through ideas.

The shop was a spacious rectangle of sharp corners, sleek designs and dark reflective colors. Tony thought it was by far the best room of the tower, though Pepper had always seemed to dislike it. Whenever she had entered, her nose scrunched up like she’d caught a nauseating smell. 

To be fair to Pepper, there probably was a smell, but Tony had learned to love it—the synthetic smell of motor oil and the metallic tang of copper wire mixed with the heat of blow torches and sourness of sweat.

Like gasoline to a fire, it told him there was something happening. It was the smell of ingenuity, intensity and creation. It made Tony want to do more.

Since she had left, Tony was spending even more time with the workshop smell, not bothering to emerge most days for anything but food and showers, though Pepper would have told him he needed more of both. He’d taken to sleeping there, too. What reason was there to leave? He’d be back in the morning and no one was waiting for him upstairs. 

A couch which hunkered in the back-left corner of the room had become his bed, though it had certainly seen better days. It’s upholstery was so stained with coffee, grease and other questionable substances and experiments that the color of the couch was unrecognizable. Now drool joined the mashed-up mess of brown and black stains.

Some days he didn’t make it to the couch and woke up draped over a table or using a faceplate or shin guard as a helmet. It was better this way, Tony told himself. Working himself to exhaustion maximized hours of productivity and fatigue chased away his dreams at night.

Tony stalked to the side of the shop with the couch, to the small kitchenette there. He poured himself a cup of coffee and looked around, squinting in the glittering light that poured in from the windows. Everywhere his eyes touched, problems and ideas jumped out at him. He worked to sort through them, tossing out the more ridiculous thoughts and prioritizing the important ingenuities.

There was still so much to do.

Not for the first time in the last few months, Tony fought the urge to scream. It was a scary feeling; there was something lurking at the bottom of his chest, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, threatening to claw its way up his throat.

If he let it loose would he finally be free and able to breathe? Or would it continue to terrorize him from the outside?

It didn’t matter—either way he would keep going.

“Agent Romanoff is on her way up, sir.” Jarvis informed him.

Natasha’s unexpected visit caught him off guard. Of course, everything about her was designed to be unexpected. “Who said you could let her in, J?” Tony asked.

“It’s complicated.” Jarvis hesitated.

Only he could have built a computer like this, Tony chided himself. “Complicated how?”

“Because I used Pepper’s access codes.” The room was filled with Natasha’s signature smoky voice, which she had perfected for deceit, espionage and manipulation.

Tony wondered which she was up to now.

“She wanted me to check up on you. I really was sorry to hear about you two; she was good for you.” Her eyes were wide and lips soft with an innocence and sadness; her voice was sickly sweet.

Manipulation, then.

“I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep to deal with your crap right now, _Natalie_. What do you want?” He didn’t bother hiding the animosity in his voice. He knew why she was here, and he knew how this was going to end—but that didn’t mean he’d make it easy on her.

Natasha’s eyes widened just enough to betray her surprise at his sharp words, yet her voice remained a pleasant tone, “Fury called a meeting for the Avengers. Today.”

Tony walked around and tinkered on his various projects, not wanting to give her his full attention. “Little last minute, yeah?”

“Only if you don’t read your emails.” Nat said.

“I read the important ones.” Tony explained. He stopped and turned to her, “I didn’t think a glorified bonding session sounded very important, did you?”

He’d read the emails, of course. Contrary to what most people thought, Tony wasn’t completely irresponsible, he just had better priorities, which didn’t always line up with those of others.

Tony had decided a long time ago that he didn’t need to be present at a meeting for someone to tell him where to throw his money. He’d thought Fury had recognized that too.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not that thrilled with the idea either,” Nat confirmed.

“Did you just agree with me? I think you just agreed with me.” Tony scoffed. “Was it painful? Should we have Jarvis play it back?”

She ignored him.

“Besides, if _you_ hadread the email, you’d have seen that, as a consultant, my presence was not wanted,” he said, ignoring the sting of the words. After all this time he should be used to being unwanted, but he hadn’t mastered that level of numbness yet.

Natasha ignored him, leaning back against the doorframe and looking all too comfortable in Tony’s space. “I see you’re not at all hung up on the consultant bit.”

Tony gave her his most vicious glare. She looked at him like a raptor determining whether to eat a helpless mouse.

“Plans change,” Natasha continued with a well-practiced grin. The sweetness that had first dripped off her voice had dissipated into the empty air.

“Not mine. Not now.”

She answered with a grin, but it wasn’t kind or warm or soft the way grins were supposed to be. It was calculated, the slow teasing way someone curved her lips just before she turned over a winning hand of cards. “How long are you going to stay hidden away in this workshop?”

“Since it is a _workshop:_ probably for as long as I plan to work.” He met her grin with his own lazy smirk. “It’s going to be a while, but it’s not hiding.”

Natasha broke the staring contest and waved an arm around carelessly. “Careful Tony. This whole tower is big and empty enough for one man to get lost in.”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to read her. Nothing this woman did was careless.

There was just enough foreboding in her voice that Tony wondered if she was threatening him. He didn’t wish to dwell on it long. “I’d extend an invitation for you to move in, but I don’t want to.” It was one of his weaker insults, but to be fair, he was running on only a few hours of crumpled up sleep.

Nat ignored him and pushed off of the doorframe, walking into his shop and invading his territory like a hunter does to its prey. Apparently, she was done with their verbal sparring and had decided it was time to pull the trigger. It wasn’t a decision Tony was thrilled about.

Her fiery hair caught the sunbeams of the workshop and her coal-black eyes latched on to his. “It’s unfortunate for you, but I don’t operate based on your plans. I may have disapproved of your position on the team, but Fury wants you there.” 

Tony let out a sigh, “I think you may be using reverse psychology to admit that you need me.”

“That’s not how reverse psychology works.”

“I’ve got to say, I liked you better when you were working for me.”

“I was never working for you.” The raptor grin was back.

She was clever, but not in the nice way. It reminded him of his father—the way Howard would use Tony as a show piece, pretending that Tony was his world when they were around other people, then throwing him aside like a used machine as soon as they turned their backs.

“I’ll wait for you in the common room. But shower first,” Natasha turned to slip away up the stairs, feeling kind enough to leave him with another order. She scrunched her nose. “This whole place reeks.”

Tony glared at her retreating figure, wishing his eyes could do more than stare daggers. Natasha was too similar to him for his comfort. Their conversations were dances between liars, each one pulling on the fabric of truth, never quite grasping certainty.

It was twisted, but it was fun—in a mad, death-defying kind of way.

It didn’t surprise anyone that Tony did as Natasha said and went to the Avengers meeting. He and death were always flirting together. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I usually won't update this soon, but I was typing away this weekend.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter! Please leave comments or kudos, I'd love to discuss things with you all!

One angry hot shower and two steaming cups of coffee later, Tony found himself stepping into a dimly lit SHEILD meeting-room full of Avengers seated around a conference table. It was an unsettling sight: the walls were the color of whispered secrets and double agents and the edges of the glass table gleamed razor sharp. 

“Glad you’re finally joining us” Fury said dully as Tony entered the room, stepping right into the director’s piercing gaze. It didn’t sound like Fury was glad at all, really.

He served Fury a carefree grin, sliding into place against the back wall. He’d followed Natasha to the meeting, but Tony didn’t intend on being a lamb at the slaughter. Fury hadn’t wanted him at this meeting until last minute, and Jarvis was already working to find out why.

For now, he’d play the part, listening and nodding like a good team player. As Fury droned on and Jarvis chipped away at SHEILD security, Tony started on puzzling out the team.

To the right of the table was a man with curly hair. He was folded in on himself, making the large office chair seem to loom over him. Tony couldn’t help but grin. _Banner_.

He looked every part the nerd: thick-rimmed glasses, a tucked in purple button up, unruly hair and a tweed jacket. It was as if he was doing every-thing he could to make the world forget he was the Hulk.

“Sweet glasses.” A voice next to him pulled him out of his thoughts.

Tony blinked hard, taking in the man that had slid up next to him. And what a site to behold. He wore black combat pants and a deep purple tank-top which clung to his body in all the right places, showing off his lethal muscles. One side of his face bore a swollen bruise in a hue that matched his shirt; the other side had a nasty gash on his cheekbone that looked like it was also turning purple. 

“Courtesy of Nat.” The man grimaced, noticing Tony’s lingering gaze. He tilted his chin to the side to give Tony a better look.

This had to be Clint Barton, the hawk-eyed archer—and Natasha’s partner in crime. If Tony wanted to make it through this team alive, it’d would be good to have someone like him on his side.

Clint seemed an eager participant, luckily.

Tony pulled his glasses off of his face, remembering Clint’s comment. He honestly wasn’t sure which pair he’d grabbed in his dismay of leaving the house. The metallic lenses flashed, their dark purple shimmering in the light. The Stark Industry logo was etched faintly on the side into the dark silver metal.

“I love those rims,” Clint added in adoration.

Tony shrugged, fighting off the grin that always came when someone appreciated his work. “They’re nice, yeah? I designed them myself.”

It was just a pair of glasses, sure, but his work was a part of him—and one of the most vulnerable, unfortunately. Pepper always had called his inventions his children, and Pepper was always right.

“Damn. What do I have to do to get you to make me a pair?” Clint was trying to whisper but was failing miserably, either because of his purple hearing aids or because he couldn’t contain his excitement. Probably the latter.

“I may have a slight obsession,” Clint joked, gesturing to his attire.

Tony breathed out a laugh, holding out his glasses. “Here. Take ‘em.”

Clint looked at him like he was offering up his first-born child: eyes wide and mouth parted. He spoke with grave sincerity: “Nat might kill me, but you’re officially my favorite on the team.”

Tony snorted softly. Clint was absurd—in an oddly charming sort of way.

“Barton, how many times do I need to tell you that you have absolutely no idea how to whisper before it finally gets through your skull?” They both startled at Nat’s intruding voice.

He looked up and saw everyone staring at them. _So much for playing the part._

Fury’s glare pinned them down, looking like a teacher chiding unruly school children. “Would you men like to join us?” He sounded like one too.

Clint answered Fury with a carefree shrug, walking forward to the end of the table. “Are you asking if we actually want to join you? Because I can give you my honest answer. Coulson and I have been working on this honesty thing.” Clint put his right hand over his heart and raised his left, “I solemnly swear that I am —”

“Real helpful Barton.” Coulson interjected from his place beside Fury, cutting Clint off.

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Fury muttered.

Tony couldn’t help but smirk. Any man that could put that look of exasperation on Fury’s face was a friend of his. He and Clint would get a long just fine.

Coulson and Fury turned from Clint and looked at Tony expectantly, as if he were holding some kind of answer. He always had answers, but they were never the kind guys like Fury wanted. He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped short.

“Don’t you start too, Stark” Fury practically growled.

Tony took a step forward, taking his time to ensure Fury was fully irritated. “You’re the one that sent Natasha after me, Nick. And why was that, by the way? I thought we were pen pals, but maybe email wasn’t enough for you? I know I’m just irresistible in person, but you could have tried Face Time if you really want to see me.”

Tony stopped, his blood turning red hot as Jarvis spoke in his earpiece. “No, I suppose coercion works better in person.” He laughed, a dry, hollow thing.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Hadn’t Natasha warned him of this only a few hours ago? _Careful Tony, this whole tower is big and empty enough for one man to get lost in._ He’d known she was planning something, but how could he have guessed this?

No matter how much practice he’d had, Tony could never get his carefree smile to hide the violent fire in his eyes. It had gotten him in trouble on more occasions than he’d cared to admit. Fury’s lip twitched as he met Tony’s telling gaze, but he didn’t flinch.

A jagged veil of unspoken threats filled the room. Fury wanted to play games with him, but Tony knew all about manipulation and business. He could play games too.

“Would someone tell us why you two are staring at each other like you know something we don’t?” Bruce asked hesitantly, his fingers drumming rapidly on the table.

“Probably because they know something we don’t.” A grim voice rang out like thunder, breaking Tony’s gaze at Fury. His eyes flicked to the one corner of the room he had tried his best to ignore until now.

He was a sinfully beautiful man. Bright blue eyes in the shade of desires and dreams sat on either side of a perfect nose. Could noses even be attractive? His was definitely the most attractive nose Tony had ever seen. The man’s blonde hair looked as if nothing softer could exist on earth. His biceps were bigger than Tony’s own head, for God’s sake.

_So, this is what Captain America looks like in person._

Steve stood up, his every move so commanding that space seemed to actively scramble out of his way. The soldiers face was schooled into impassiveness but Tony could sense his surprise, could feel the gears turning in the soldiers mind.

There was no doubt that Steve had taken one look at him and seen Howard.

But Tony could see a bit of his father in Steve too: in the expression that Tony had grown up staring into. Disappointment.

What Tony saw only enforced the conclusion he’d come to many, many years ago. He did not like Steve Rogers. And if the tick in Steve’s perfectly chiseled jaw was any evidence, the feeling was mutual.

Tony turned back to Fury, ignoring Steve’s comment. “It’s not happening, Nick.”

“That’s not the answer I’m looking for.” Fury said with irritating calm, like he had already won.

“Then look somewhere else! You can take my money, take my designs—have my cars for all I care!” Tony placed his hands on the table, leaning forward to avoid any confusion on the matter, “But you cannot take my home.”

“What is he talking about?” Steve asked, clueless.

Tony stepped back, gesturing for Fury to explain to his lap dog.

“There’s been a bit of trouble getting approval from all the required departments for the Initiative,” Fury began.

That may have been the source of the issue, but it wasn’t what Tony was angry about. “He wants you all to live with me. In my tower.”

“I want to be practical,” Fury corrected him. “Some _fools_ don’t realize what is out there, but I’ve seen it.” He pointed to the sky, his single eye scanning the room. “We _need_ this team to protect our small, helpless solar system. Earth needs the Avengers. And _excuse me_ if I don’t think throwing you narcissistic, chaotic solo-acts together at the last minute, when some maniac decides to threaten our world, is the best idea.”

Fury’s argument was more reasonable that Tony cared to admit—in fact, it was similar to the reason he kept building so many suits. But so what if Fury _might_ have a point? Tony _might_ have listened if they weren’t talking about invading his home.

“Fury’s right.” Steve said, in a commanding voice that irritated Tony more than it should have. “If we’re going to fight together as a team, then we should know each other as a team.”

“Is that a jingle you came up with? The Avenger’s motto, maybe?” Tony scoffed. “Of course you’d agree, Capsicle. Do you even have a home, or do you just live in a laboratory?”  
  


“Tony.” Nat warned, for whose safety he couldn’t tell.

“Of course I do. But mine isn’t a huge, towering home of a spoiled millionaire—”

“Spoiled billionaire, actually.”

“Figures that difference would matter to you.” Steve stepped closer, “I’ve seen the footage, Stark. Are you worried we’ll mess with your daily routine of getting drunk and sleeping around?”

“I don’t think I have to be worried about you stealing the girls, if that’s what you’re saying,

Princess. They tend to like the bad boys.” Tony controlled his temper and gave Steve his best smirk, enjoying the way the man’s nostrils flared with anger.

Had Fury really thought this would work? That he could bring Tony in last minute to clean up a mess he couldn’t handle? 

“This is going to be a great team,” Bruce sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Steve barreled on: “You put on a suit of iron and think that can somehow change who you are? It doesn’t matter how expensive the suit you wear, you’re still the same war profiteer—”

“Wait up, _soldier._ You wouldn’t _exist_ without a war.” Anger threatened Tony’s reason, pushing past his jokes and sarcasm. The arc reactor sat heavy in his chest, the same way he always got when people mentioned his past.

People like Steve took one look at Tony’s record and made all his decisions for him. It would never matter that he had put an end to it all: that he had stopped building weapons, escaped a terrorist organization and turned his sights on arc reactor technology. It didn’t matter that he had stopped sleeping around and gone the longest in his life without getting drunk.

He wasn’t just Tony Stark now: he was Iron Man. But the past had claws and it fought to stay alive.

It shouldn’t be forgotten, Tony knew, though he hated to admit it. He couldn’t change or fix what he had done, but shouldn’t he be able to move forward? Was there some type of redemption test that would allow him to move on, or had he already failed?

People spouted crap about each day being a new one, but did anyone actually believe that? Mistakes were black holes, and they devoured even the greatest of lights. 

Tension muddled his mind as Tony tried to sort out what to do. He didn’t need to be an Avenger—he didn’t even want to be. What he wanted was to be a better man than he had been. He wanted to be Iron Man and to protect and fix what he loved.

He wanted best Steve. To prove him wrong. But there was only one way to do that. 

“Fine.”

Everyone in the room blinked. Steve’s brows knit together as if trying to solve an impossible equation. It didn’t compute that Tony could do something kind like this. Why would it?

“Fine?” Clint said slowly, as though saying something too quickly would frighten off Tony’s agreement.

“Are you sure about this Tony?” Bruce asked, though his eyes showed that he knew there was no way out for Tony now. It was kind of him to ask, at least.

“Of course. Every night will be like a party—what’s not to love?” Tony clapped his hands together. He tried not to sound too miserable, but the hollow sound of his voice tore through the room. “Give me three weeks. Three weeks and I’ll have everything ready.”

A fog had clouded his mind and vision, washing out the color of the room; his voice seemed farther away than it should have. He needed to get out of there. “Call me if, you know, you need anything else.”

As he walked out the door, Tony thought he should have felt triumphant that he’d been able to render Captain America speechless and proven him wrong in their first encounter. But instead, Tony sensed that this meeting had gone exactly the way Nick Fury had intended it to—and that was somehow the worst of it all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter brings up a really relevant question about how much we as a society should be willing to forgive. Especially in this era where authors, producers, directors, actors etc. are being exposed we have to decide for ourselves if these are horrible people or normal people who have made horrible mistakes.
> 
> I think it is a very individual decision—and I'm definitely not suggesting that these crooks are undeserving of punishment—but I think it's important to really think about right now. Specifically the relationship between the art and the artist: should we stop watching movies if the lead actor is now a convicted sex offender? 
> 
> Like I said, it is very complicated and very individualized, but writing about Tony's struggle to move on and evolve made me think of how relevant this all is. 
> 
> Please leave your comments and kudos!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small part of this dialogue is from a comic book; those words are not my own (the ones involving rhodey’s suit) and I do not take credit for them as my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos!! Thanks for reading!

Three weeks went by in three excruciatingly short seconds. Between renovating the penthouse and designing company projects, Tony’s work on the suits had been dramatically underwhelming. Late nights had become even more sacred to him during those weeks. The vacuous sound of empty rooms and corridors was his music, the hiss of a blow torch and the sharp clangs of metal his prayers.

Somehow, Rhodey still managed to find time to call him and chastise him about sleep and eating habits—two things he should have figured out by adulthood, according to him.

“Could you at least be proud that I’ve timed my sleep deprivation perfectly?” Tony asked through the phone. He put up with the parenting since Rhodey had to endure far more, but that didn’t mean he didn’t give him shit for it.

“I’m not giving you that kind of validation.”

“I was in that foggy haze of autopilot which comes from just the right combination of exhaustion and caffeine when the team showed up. I didn’t have to suffer through any of the awkward meet-your-new-roommates stuff since I crashed right after showing them in,” Tony argued, adding “All your talk about time-management really paid off.”

“That is not at all what I meant, and you know that you smart ass.” Rhodey spoke in the tone that he’d seemed to cultivate just for showing how fondly exasperated he was with Tony.

“Try harder Rhodes. As insults goes, that’s pretty lame.”

“Don’t insult my name calling.”

“You’re right, I’ve gone too far.” Tony agreed solemnly. Warm laughter crackled through the phone, and Tony drank it in.

“It’s good to hear your voice, buddy, it’s been crazy over here,” Rhodey said after a moment.

“You’re always off having all the fun without me,” Tony whined.

“That’s because every time I invite you somewhere, I end up drunk or with a random girl, or —”

“Half naked holding a can of whip cream that’s been duct-taped to a bottle opener?”

“That was one time!” Rhodey groaned miserably.

“It was good time!”

“I don’t even know what the hell happened,” Rhodes complained. “And I still don’t know where my pants ended up.”

“They were nice pants.” Tony mourned.

“I blame you.”

“What’s new …” Tony grinned as he pictured the amused look of disapproval he imagined was on Rhodey’s face.

“Seriously though. I’m glad you answered; it’s been too long.” Rhodey’s voice was laden with nostalgia, it really had been too long since they had been able to talk, and it was taking more of a toll on Tony than he’d realized.

“Hey—tell me about your new roommates,” Rhodey quickly added, knowing Tony wasn’t one to discuss heartfelt feelings. “They’ve been there two weeks now?”

“Yeah, but what’s there to tell?” Tony said lazily, ignoring Rhodey’s snort at the question. “I haven’t seen them much, in between work and sleep.”

It wasn’t very hard to avoid people while making it look like you weren’t avoiding them when Jarvis was on your side, Tony thought to himself.

“Sounds like you’re a great host.” Rhodey chided him.

“This isn’t a hotel, Rhodey! I’ve spent too much of my life entertaining and gossiping. I have better things to do now. You know that.”

“Iron Man.” Rhodey said, with a mixture of apprehension and understanding in his voice.

“Speaking of which, how is my suit?”

“ _My_ suit is great, of course. But when am I going to get those updates you were telling me about?” Rhodey questioned slyly.

“Do you have the 4 million on you now, or…”

“What about the best friend discount?” Rhodey asked incredulously.

“That _is_ the best friend discount!” Tony scoffed. “Just weld another machine gun to your shoulder, I’m sure you’ll find room somewhere.”

Rhodey pouted through the phone: “I think I need to rethink our friendship,”

“You should have done that a long time ago, buddy. You’re in for good now!”

“Whether I like it or not.” Tony could hear Rhodey shake his head. “But quit changing the subject Tones,” Rhodey ordered. “Tell me about the team!”

“There really isn’t that much to say,” Tony tried again, _and there isn’t much of a team_. “They’re easy going enough, I guess. They made a big deal out of their rooms.”

“Why?”

“I made a few tweaks here and there for each of them, but—”

“You customized their rooms?” Rhodey asked.

“You know I do this kind of thing all the time—it’s not that special.” Tony really hadn’t done much. He was a mechanic: he designed, invented and created for a living and a hobby.

“People generally don’t do stuff like that for others, Tones. People generally aren’t that kind.”

Kind? Tony kept from laughing. “Well I wasn’t going to just shove them in the garage,” He rationalized, “My cars are there.”

Rhodey hummed his agreement, not sounding like he believed him.

Tony continued with the update, pleased that Rhodey didn’t press the issue further. “Steve keeps trying to have team dinners ever since he discovered that Bruce was such a good cook, and Clint seems to have an unhealthy obsession with movies and video games, along with the color purple. Movie nights were his brilliant idea. I’ve gotten out of most of it all since I’ve been working in the shop and sleeping—”

“In the shop.” Rhodey finished for him, disapproval in his tone. Was there ever a time it wasn’t there?

“There’s a couch in there!” Tony protested.

“That thing is a safety hazard, Tony, and I keep telling you to get rid of it. You’ve had that junk since college, and I swear it’s a different color each time I see it.”

“It’s got some character,” Tony sniffed. 

“You always cling to things.”

“Don’t let anyone hear you, or my reputation will be ruined,” Tony half-joked.

Rhodey didn’t answer right away, most likely on account of the deep voice shouting out commands in the background. A few seconds later his friend told him he had to go. “But try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.” Rhodey ordered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll save the whip cream and can openers for when you’re around.” Tony assured him as a goodbye.

Tony closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, trying to memorize the way he felt. It wasn’t always like this after talking to Rhodey, especially not on the days that Tony had seriously screwed up, but most of the time bantering with his friend left him light and happy.

In the following week, he tried to hold on to that feeling, to trap the warmth inside him and the stretch of a smile on his face. In the workshop, it was easy. Anywhere else—when Tony wasn’t cranking away at some piece of machinery—it was almost impossible.

At any moment thoughts of Pepper and her accusations shredded at his heart, while fears of things out of his control snaked around his lungs. He couldn’t build the suits fast enough; he couldn’t fix things completely.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how poisonous these thoughts were. Tony knew that his goals were impractical—there was no way he could fix everything that he had done. But what kind of man would he be if he didn’t try?

The suits were his best chance at redemption, Pepper not being able to see that didn’t make it not true.

So he cranked out updates for the suits—sending software to Rhodey as soon as he could after their conversation, labeling it ‘best friend discount.’ But in between the company, charities and mandated Avengers meetings, the only time he could get to the shop was at late at night.

By that Friday, Tony had lost track of how many hours of sleep he’d gotten—despite it being a frighteningly small number. He was on an autopilot mission to get coffee when he ran into Steve. If he had more energy, he would have blamed Jarvis for not warning him—or maybe Jarvis had told him, but Tony just hadn’t heard him through the fog.

Either way, he didn’t have nearly enough sleep to deal with a super-soldier-sized problem.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading! I have a question: School is about to start up again pretty soon, so I will be a heck of a lot busier. I'm wondering if you guys would prefer me to post once a week consistently or post quickly until I run out and then maybe have to wait if my schedule gets too crazy. So essentially, I have enough written so far that I could post once a week and make it through a 16 week semester, or do you not want to wait that long and have me post the 16 quickly up front but maybe wait a while before I can get to it again? 
> 
> Or do you not care lol. Just let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading

Steve was sitting on the corner of the couch, his legs pulled tightly to his chest. He was frustratingly beautiful, even with his pajamas and ruffled hair. His looks made it simultaneously easy and impossible to hate him.

  
Suddenly Tony became very aware of his crumpled-up t-shirt and the motor oil on his hands and arms that he hadn’t bothered to wipe off.

“Tony.” Steve nodded at him in greeting.

“Ken.” Tony nodded too, holding back a small giggle.

Steve’s eyes furrowed together in confusion.

“It’s a nickname.” Tony explained, “Barbie’s guy.”

Steve didn’t look any more certain.

“Wears ascots, has perfect teeth, you know…”

“I’ll have to look that one up I guess.”

“Don’t bother. I was insulting you.” Tony spelled it out for him, making his way to the coffee machine. “But you messed that up too,” he concluded, muttering to himself. Exhaustion always removed his filters, and he didn’t bother filtering anything when Steve was around anyways. 

The soldier stayed silent, processing the Tony’s nonsense. He was more tired than he’d thought he was, Tony realized. But then again, that was usually the case. It was simple to keep going while he was working, but the moment he stopped was the moment he crashed.

Tony rummaged around in his cabinets for the biggest mug he could find, huffing out his impatience since it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Was it too hard for Clint to put things back exactly where they came from? Shouldn’t that be a fundamental life-or-death skill for assassins?

Tony found the cup three cabinets down from where it should have been, and turned to make the pot of coffee. He was stopped mid-turn by a mini-panic attack, startled by Steve’s presence at the counter.

“Shouldn’t a big guy like you make more noise when he moves?” Tony asked.

Steve just shrugged, pushing forward his own mug of coffee. “Would you mind?” Steve asked.

Tony didn’t bother telling Steve that the caffeine would have no effect on the super-soldier since his body would process it too quickly, but that would have required a lot of energy to say. He also might have offered to make a drink that could give him an energy boost, but that would have required him to like Steve.

Tony filled the cup in silence. It was a good call, and he congratulated his brain for the decision. It was too late at night for words—or was it too early in the morning?. At what point did late become early? That was always a confusing concept, and someone should have established the right name for it by now.

Either way, both of them should have been in bed, but both of them were gulping down steaming cups of coffee.

Steve couldn’t be all that bad, if he liked coffee that much, Tony decided.

He warmed his hands on his mug as he leaned against the counter. The hot drink warmed him from the inside out, lulling him further into his exhaustion instead of waking him up. Even the coffee was failing him…

Tony closed his eyes. Maybe he should go to bed—his actual real bed—like Rhodey had told him to. He was a smart guy, that Rhodey, maybe he should listen to him more.

Tony opened his eyes slowly and was shocked all over again by Steve’s presence. This had been the longest they’d ever been in a room together—each one usually finding ways to avoid each other or storming off in frustration after seconds of interaction.

Now, a surprisingly comfortable silence filled the room, each man occupied with their coffee and staring into space in silence.

The problem came when Steve finished the drink and must have felt the obligation to talk. Which was exactly why everyone needed to have oversized coffee mugs, Tony rationalized.

“I knew your father.”

Tony blinked hard.

“Howard — I knew Howard.” Steve clarified. As if Tony had another father Steve could have been referring to.

Any comfort Tony had been feeling was strangled out of him. The silence was suffocating, replacing the coffee taste in his mouth with vile bitterness.

Still, he sipped at the drink, formulating a response. What was he supposed to say _? “That’s great. I wish I hadn’t?”_ Tony rubbed his arm. This wasn’t a road he wanted to go down.

He opted for something less bitter: “Smart guy, huh.” It was a good response, Tony congratulated himself again, it didn’t forward the conversation, but it included nothing angsty or bitter at all.

He had really thought that they’d had a mutual agreement that it was too late for words.

Steve took Tony’s response as an invitation to talk more, unfortunately. Maybe his communication device was broken or something?

“I could never keep up with him, he was always working on so many projects at once. In the same month he’d have traveled all over — different states, different countries. And he taught me all about, uh — _fondue_.” Steve chuckled when he said the word, like it was an inside joke, and looked up to see if Tony had understood.

He hadn’t.

Astonishingly, Steve kept going: “He was such a great guy — even though at first I wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to be my pal or if he was just interested in the science part, you know? And man, he sure loved the science. Did you know that he made a car actually fly? Somehow the wheels just turned and I don’t even know what happened next. That was before I actually knew —”

The sharp sound of Tony’s mug hitting the counter finally with a bit too much force put a much-needed end to Steve’s rambling. “Not really a hard thing to do” Tony said, his jaw tight. He should have just gone to bed instead of coming up here. Blue eyes widened.

“It was back then,” Steve countered.

“Not really. And if you’d recall, he didn’t get it to work. His calculations were sub-par at best and he really should have used a different alloy for the coils.” Tony looked up when he heard a snort. Of course, Steve didn’t understand any of that, but it probably wouldn’t stop him from commenting.

“I’d like to see you do it, then.” Steve’s hands gripped the cup hard, his knuckles flushing white.

Tony really tried to hold back his laughter, but he blamed his fatigue for failing miserably. “Are you joking Rogers? No? Wow.” Tony grinned wolfishly, “Just pull up a YouTube video or Google it. Better yet I’ll go put on the suit. Or did you forget that I’m kind of leading the industry in flying machinery?”

A muscle ticked in Steve’s jaw, betraying his anger. “That’s my friend you’re talking about.” His voice was low.

“My father, you mean.”

“You really think you’re the smartest man in the room at all times, don’t you?”

Tony opened his arms to either side, gesturing to the space around them. In this room he was.

“Not all of the time, no. Just mostly.” He should have stopped there, but he was awake now—and having too much fun. “Out of the two of us, who graduated from MIT at 15 and earned PhDs in physics, mechanical engineering and electrical engineering when he was 17? When Bruce is around, I wouldn’t make the claim, but you can be damn sure that you still wouldn’t be able to insult my intelligence then, either.”

Tony felt his lip curl up in a sneer as Steve looked at him with anger and disgust.

The soldier’s eyes hardened and he shook his head. “I don’t care how many degrees you have, if you’re not a decent person.” Steve turned and walked away, leaving his coffee behind. “And no matter how smart you are, Howard would be disappointed.”

“I didn’t care about his opinion then, and I sure don’t care about it now.” Tony growled after him. He brushed the mugs into the sink, uncaring if they shattered. The dregs at the bottom dripped like blood down the drain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to happen—which means cliff hangers!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!! While you're waiting for updates, please check out my other work Suspended in Light, or leave a comment and kudos if you like the story.

The next morning, only a few hours into Tony’s feverish dreams, Fury held a meeting at SHEILD. This time, the Avengers were not notified. Instead, only Fury and his closest agents filled the room with their whispers.

Coulson and Hill looked up at him from behind their cups of coffee and stacks of papers.

“Let’s get it over with,” Fury nodded at them. Their reports on the Avengers Initiative had been nothing but a headache for him the last two weeks, but if they could pull it off it would be worth all of his suffering. 

Hill gestured for Coulson to start. “Sir, it appears that nothing has improved. Clint continues to report that there is a complete lack of cohesion among the team.”

“They need a leader, sir.” Hill elaborated, “You know better than anyone else that these are highly trained and skilled individuals—and that’s all they will be if they don’t have someone acting as a glue.”

“They have no reason to trust each other,” Coulson agreed. “They have no reason to follow one another, and they have no reason to fight for one another when the time comes for it.”

“The reason is up there,” Fury raised his voice, gesturing to everything above their heads—everything about this world and others that they still didn’t know about. “If they wait for a reason to come down—it will be too late.”

For a moment no one said anything. Fury didn’t have to convince Coulson and Hill of that truth. Coulson had seen it with his own eyes, and Hill was bright enough to understand everything the two of them had told her.

Fury ran his hand down the back of his head. “They have a leader.”

“All due respect, sir,” Hill spoke up. “He won’t cut it alone.”

Fury raised an eyebrow.

“Rogers is a man out of time—and I’m not saying that he has no clue how to operate in the 21stcentury. We know that’s not true. But Steve Rogers was born in a time where the enemy was easy to spot. They marked themselves with swastikas.”

“It’s not easy now.” Coulson muttered; surly thinking of the same shape-shifting aliens Fury was.

“Beyond even the Skrulls,” Hill reasoned, intuiting what the men were thinking. “Politicians, spies, back-door deals, black markets, media outpouring—it’s impossible to know where anyone stands and who anyone truly is. The line between right and wrong, good and evil—it’s questionable if there even is one.”

Hill met his gaze straight on as she always did, undaunted. “I’m not sure if it’s the best idea to have a leader who might not know where he’s supposed to lead. Or who believes so whole-heartedly in something that he can’t see the complexities of the other side.

“The serum didn’t make him perfect. From what I understand, it intensified everything in him—he’s still human, maybe even more so than others.” Hill finished, leaving the room in silence once more.

She wasn’t wrong—Hill rarely was—and she knew when to speak her mind when it most counted. But even if her concern was valid, who else could lead the Avengers? Fury’s mind buzzed as he searched to find a solution, pushing down the small voice that suggested maybe there wasn’t one.

No option was never an option.

Coulson spoke first: “Rogers is a better choice than handing the team to a guy who might understand the complexities of the world better, but doesn’t think of the consequences.”

“Stark.” Fury mused, admiration and irritation for the man always warred with each other when the genius idiot was brought up.

They all knew he was the only other option. Nat and Clint were out of the question. They’d spent their whole life feeding off of lies and surrounding themselves with isolation. Banner wasn’t reliable, and Fury was keeping information about Thor to himself for now. 

“He’s too reckless, you’re right.” Hill confirmed; her mouth drawn into a thin line. “But we’ll be lucky if we can get one to follow the other.”

“They can’t even stand being in the same room.” Coulson laughed ruefully.

The cogs cranked away in Fury’s mind.

“The whole thing rides on them,” Coulson added. “Think about it: without Tony, there’s no innovation, funding, and audacity. We’ve all seen what he did in Afghanistan, building that suit with nothing.” He paused, “but he fights only for himself. ”

“And without Rogers, there’s no order or authority or trust. He’s the guy you know you can fall back on, the one who will keep fighting for what he believes in no matter how slim the odds. But he can be blinded by his own views and out of sync with the complexities of it all.” Hill added, thinking out loud.

“They’d be the perfect balance.”

“Or the perfect disaster.”

A silence swept the room as they both looked to Fury. But he was miles away—planets, actually. A plan had begun to formulate in his mind. It was one that was extremely reckless and more than a little dangerous, but most of his plans were. “Then we’ll just have to get Stark and Rogers to play nice.” 

“Scheming face,” Coulson muttered to Hill, who smirked in agreement.

“What are you going to do?” Hill asked.

“Shoot one of them?” Coulson guessed.

“Lock them in a room together?” Hill supplied.

“Neither,” Fury grinned. “I’m going to make a long-distance call.”

______

“Fury wants to see us.” Tony stood at the door of the gym, ignoring the achingly beautiful way sweat glistened off of Steve’s shirtless, muscular back. Of course his father and the doctor had to pick an already attractive man to get injected with the serum. It was disgustingly unfair that someone so insufferable could be so insufferably beautiful. Nature should have made a law against it.

In fact, nature probably had made a law against it, but Howard had just sent a giant ‘fuck you’ to the universe, like always.

“Us?” Steve grunted. Even that was hot.

“That’s what I said.” God, Tony was in some serious trouble. No more going to the gym while Steve was working out. Otherwise he’d have to keep reminding himself that they didn’t like each other. 

“He didn’t call me.” Steve panted after finishing a brutal combination on an abused heavy bag.

“You can complain to him about favoritism when we get there, Spangles. Let’s go.”

Steve wiped his face with a towel and slung it around his neck. “Can I have your permission to shower first? Or did Fury give you orders about that too?”

Tony could think of a lot of things about showers and permission right now, but none of them involved Fury. He pushed the images out of his head, along with a theory that began to for in his mind. Science was always getting him in trouble.

Tony couldn’t help but wonder, did a super soldier sweat more or less than the average human? What about the smell? He slammed a wall down before his mind could push further. Experiments like that always got him in trouble.

“For the sake of us all,” Tony scrunched up his nose in exaggeration, “Take a shower first.” He gave himself a point when Steve’s face pinch up irritation. He’d begun to make a game out of it, trying his best to get the worst looks he could from Steve, and awarding points when he did.

“Get me in the shop when you’re done.” Tony turned to leave.

“Why?”

Tony sighed, “I’m sorry—I thought—Should we do this again?” Tony pretended to look confused: “Fury wants to see us.”

“ _Jesus_ —I meant—” Steve gave up and rolled his eyes. He _actually_ rolledhis eyes.

Tony counted that as bonus points.

“You don’t have to wait for me. I can get there myself.”

“I’m sure you can super-boy, but that would be a waste of gas. You don’t want the paparazzi to hear that Captain America doesn’t care about the environment, do you? Bruce may never speak to you again.”

Tony wasn’t competing against anyone—but for the record, he was definitely winning.

Steve brushed past him. “You bother me.”

“I take pride in it, too.” Tony grinned wickedly and returned to his shop, wondering what Fury could want with the two of them, and hypothesizing all any way he could get out of it.

———

“This isn’t the way to the compound,” Steve directed Tony.

“I knew you were going to be a backseat driver.” 

“Where are you taking us?” Steve wore the frown that his face seemed to permanently exist in. Maybe Tony’s mother had been telling the truth when she’d said faces could get stuck after scowling for too long.

“I told you, Fury wanted to meet with us.” He was being an annoying prick. But it was just _so_ much fun.

“Is it hard, being disliked by everyone?”

Well that escalated quickly. “I don’t know, you tell me.” Tony repeated nonchalantly.

“I just don’t understand people like you. How can you be content with your life?” Steve’s voice was pinched, strained with the kind of frustration that’s been bottled up, put on ice, and hidden away for far too long.

  
Tony wondered what it would take to make Steve blow. It seemed as though Steve existed in the middle of nowhere, a pot that had been left to simmer, never getting the cathartic release of a screaming boil but remaining too hot to eat.

“I’d be pretty stupid to be discontent; don’t you think? Ungrateful, even.” Tony kept his voice light despite the weight in his chest. 

“Do you care about anything else besides you and your suits?” Steve’s words slammed into him, carrying memories of Pepper’s similar accusation.

“You don’t know anything about me.” The words sounded strangled, much to his confusion. The arc reactor pressed heavy against his chest. It always seemed bigger when things were getting shitty.

“I know enough.”

Tony held his left hand steady against the wheel though it threatened to shake. At least when he was an ass, it was sarcastic and impersonal. Steve’s cruelty was vicious, his words so cool and carefully measured that they seemed to be facts rather than opinions.

As Tony turned down a dirt road to their destination, he felt vaguely queasy, uncertain whether the emotion inside him was anger or fear. He didn’t have time to sort it out.

Both men stared out into the empty field before them.

“Tony, what are we doing here?” Steve’s jaw ticked, betraying just how angry he was.

“Do we really need to go over it again? Fury wanted us here, yeah?

“I don’t see him.”

“I’ve been working so hard not to call you Captain Obvious, but you’re making it extremely difficult.” Tony got out of the car and started walking. Minutes later, the slamming of the passenger door told him Steve had followed.

Followed him where? Hell if he knew.

The field was a dusty haze of level ground, baking in the New York sun, which had seemed to bleed the color from the grass, turning it to tarnished gold. The ground was swallowed by a forest of evergreen trees in the distance, their presence looming over the field. The field, which was very much empty.

Tony came to a stop almost halfway into the field, brushing off the stickers that had clung to the legs of his pants with his feet.

“If you’re planning to kill me and bury my body out here, I feel like you could have picked a better location.” Steve said, moments after joining Tony. A joke? Who would have thought?

“I wouldn’t do that.” Tony assured him, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he shot Steve a devilish look. “There are much more efficient ways of getting away with murder than this.”  
  


“Comforting,” Steve muttered.

They stood in silence, squinting in the sunlight. Steve looked around, slowly turning in a circle with his hands on his hips. Tony searched as far as the computer in his glasses allowed him to see, looking for anything. 

“Well either Fury wanted us to bond over how pointless this was, or you’re horrible at practical jokes, but—”

A terrible sound shrieked through the air, obliterating Steve’s sentence. In an instant, Tony’s world was drenched in the brightest light he had ever seen. He felt weightless as a multitude of colors raced around him. The sharp, deafening noise hammered its way into all of his senses; everything crackled with howling electricity.

He was flying and weightless. He was surrounded by glowing, blinding light.

Until he wasn’t.

And then there was only darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This is a pretty short chapter, but it sets up everything to come. 
> 
> The beginning is heavily influenced by Stephanie Garber's Caravel, and if you enjoy it credit her not me. If you hate it, credit me, not her.

Tony was no longer flying.

He was on the damp ground, feeling far, far away from the bright, weightless thing he’d been back when the colorful light had surrounded him, when wonder, terror and awe had consumed his mind. Tony had reveled in it until it had felt like he was floating.

But now he was face down on the cold, hard forest floor.

Not daring to open his eyes, he groaned and brushed bits of nature from his hair, wishing some of the other memories of earlier that day could be as easily swept away. Everything reeked of pine needles, singed plants, and secrets. His skin itched and crawled, and the only thing worse than the spinning in his head was the twisted soreness in his back and neck. The rims of his sunglasses bit into his cheeks.

Had he thought falling asleep outside was a brilliant idea? How had he gotten to the forest at all? How long had he been lying there?

“Argh.” Someone grunted the not-quite-satisfied sound of a person on the verge of waking up.

Tony opened his eyes, peered to the side, and then closed her lids immediately. _Crap._

He was not alone.

Amid the towering trees and the untamed greens of the forest floor, Tony had flashed open his eyes just long enough to glimpse a golden head of hair, milky skin and a twitching frown. _Steve._

What the hell had happened? Had he—had they?

No. Tony shuddered and shoved the thought away. Steve would never—there was no way. They must have gone to the forest beyond the field together. But why? What the hell had happened?

With another groan, Steve stretched beside him. His large hand landed on Tony’s lower back, warm and firm, and far more tempting than it should have been.

Tony told himself he needed to escape before Steve woke. But he quickly dismissed that too, realizing that only one car was waiting for them, parked near that abandoned field. Tony liked to irritate Steve but stranding Steve out here would be cruel, and Tony despised cruelty. 

Like everything Steve did, even asleep, he was good with his hands. He idly ran his fingers up Tony’s spine to his neck, lazily digging into his hair just enough to make his back arch. The old soldier was clearly more experienced than Tony had pegged him to be.

Steve’s fingers stilled.

His breathing grew suddenly quiet in a way that told Tony he was now awake as well.

Swallowing a curse, Tony hastily pushed up from the ground, away from Steve’s stilled, skilled fingers. He didn’t care if he saw him scrambling away; it would be far less uncomfortable than anything Steve would have said, he was sure of it.

Tony had slept with enough men to know that anything said by a them right after they woke up next to you could not be believed at all.

Frantically, Tony decided pretending Steve was still passed out was the best approach. “Wake up Rogers! Beauty sleep is over.” God, how he wished he had ignored Fury’s call.

Steve groaned in response, flopped to his back, and squinted up at the trees. The hands that had just left Tony’s back tingling were now digging into the dirt around him. “Where are we?”

Tony watched as Steve shot up from the ground when his mind caught up to his senses.

Tony followed his vision. A thick expanse of trees stretched to all sides, surrounding them in a blanket of deep green that faded to a harrowing sea of shadows. The sky told him that they’d been unconscious for far too long. They must have wandered deeper into the forest than he’d initially thought.

“You don’t remember anything?” Tony swallowed hard.

“No.” Steve had stood up now and was brushing leaves from his clothes. “Should I remember something? What did you do?”

Tony wanted to throttle Steve. “What did _I_ do? How on earth could this be something I did? You weren’t the only one who woke up not remembering anything!”

“What happened?”

“Did I not just say that I don’t remember anything?” Tony figured leaving out his hallucination of flying in a magical light tunnel was probably for the best now. Steve already looked at him like he was insane. “I swear, it’s like the serum affected everything _but_ your hearing.”

Steve ignored him, per usual. “Did Fury even tell us to come here?”

Tony broke away from Steve and tried to discern the path to the car, refusing to answer the question. He was so tired of being this man’s villain.

After several moments of furious silence, Steve pressed him again: “Well? Did he?”

“If you really think I knocked you out, dragged you to the middle of a forest and planted myself beside you—just to lie in the dirt until you woke up—you’re way more dense than I gave you credit for. Impressive, really.”

A touch of color filled Steve’s cheeks. _Good, let him feel guilty._

“Was this Fury’s idea, then?” Steve redirected his anger.

“Would you stop asking questions I clearly don’t know the answer to?” Tony snapped.

Steve turned around, looking off into the woods before him. “I don’t know what that thing was, and I just figured it was some type of tech.”

Tony’s chest tightened. “What thing?” Had Steve seen it too?

“I don’t know, its … I saw this rainbow of colors, so bright I thought it would burn me. Loud as all heck.” Steve spun around, his blue eyes searching. “I swear I felt like I was flying. It sounds crazy, I know, but—”

“I saw it too.” Tony said quietly.

Steve’s posture sagged with relief, mirroring Tony’s own. They weren’t crazy. Or, at least, he wasn’t going crazy alone.

If this was some kind of game Fury was playing, he’d kill him. He’d kick them all out of the tower too. It had felt like he was flying—both of them had felt it. Could Fury do such a thing? Tony sure as hell hadn’t given him the tech for it. _The tech._

_Jarvis._

Tony’s eyes shot open as his whole body pounded with his panicked heartbeat. He was going to be sick. 

He leaned against a tree, resting his head on the sharp bark. Spots swam in front of his eyes and his heartbeat raced. _Not now. Please, not now._ He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

“Tony what’s happening?”

That was the wrong question, Tony wanted to say, but it came out as a garbled choking sound. His vison swam and he sank to the ground, shoving his head into his callused palms.

“Tony?” A hand pressed into his back, and Tony tried to hold on to the solid weight. “Tony, talk to me,” Steve ordered him. His voice sounded distant against the beat of Tony’s heart.

He should have listened to Pepper. He should have abandoned the suits, dismissed the Avengers and gone with Pepper. Why did he have to care about Iron Man so much? Why couldn’t he just have gone with Pepper and accepted that he couldn’t change things that were out of his control. 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to end the nightmare. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

Tony tried to be rational. He’d been lost before and he’d found his way back against all odds. He could do it again.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. “I don’t know where we are, Steve. I don’t know.” The panic attack made it hard to be ashamed of the crack in his voice.

Steve protested: “We can’t be too far from the car. We’ll be at the tower by nightfall and we’ll laugh about it with the team.”

Tony shook his head furiously. Or maybe it was his whole body that was shaking. “You don’t get it. You don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

_“There is no car.”_

Steve was looking at him with wide eyes and a furrowed brow. “Tony, you’re acting crazy.”

“There’s no car Steve. There’s no tower—and thereis no team.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve’s voice was pinched, betraying his concern.

Tony didn’t want to say the words aloud. He didn’t want to taste the awful bitterness that the truth would leave in his mouth. Once he said them, there would be no more pretending.

Tony swallowed hard.

“We’re not in New York, Steve. I don’t know where we are—but we’re not on Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos! If I sound desperate, it's because I am. You should feel sorry for me, and then leave me a comment or kudos to make me feel better!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! School has started so posting might become a bit irregular (I hope not though). 
> 
> Thank you to everyone leaving comments and kudos—Its so wonderful knowing that people are enjoying the work!

“I don’t understand.” Steve had whipped out his phone, hoping to prove Tony wrong with a simple phone call and being let down. It was only going to get worse from here.

“This isn’t Earth.” Tony repeated, as if that would suddenly enlighten Steve and he wouldn’t have to explain the worst discovery in recent history. And he’d had some pretty crappy realizations over the years, too.

Steve’s eyes told Tony that the soldier thought he was crazy. But who knew? Maybe he was. “How can that be possible, Tony?”

“I don’t know. The light—maybe?”

“You can’t seriously be saying we were abducted by aliens.”

Tony was a man of logic. Science and math; numbers and equations. Everything had an explanation, even if it was an undiscovered one. They were on another planet—all the evidence pointed to it—but that didn’t mean he knew what the hell was going on.

Science didn’t boast of having all the answers, like Tony so often did. “I don’t know what I’m saying,” he muttered.

The admission must have shocked Steve, since he was no longer looking at him like he was crazy. It was always disconcerting when someone who always had an answer had nothing to say, like the knowledge they once had held so tightly to had broken free, slipping out into the world and breaking away into a million pieces.

Now Steve’s eyes were narrowed with concern and confusion, a mixture of troubled thoughts that made his blue irises dark and foreboding, the color of hidden thoughts. It was crazy, how much Tony noticed Steve’s eyes, he knew, but they seemed to hold the only indication that beneath the rigid soldier was an impressionable man.

“But how do you know we aren’t on Earth?” A valid question, though Tony wished Steve would just accept it for what it was. Words were garbled in his throat, trying to force their way back down and away from reality.

“Jarvis,” Tony finally bit out.

“What’s a Jarvis?”  
  


“He’s AI. Artificial Intelligence,” Tony clarified when Steve’s brows knit together. “In the most mundane terms, he’s a computer program that can handle an insane variety and capacity of tasks. He runs everything from programs like security and air-conditioning in the tower to algorithms and experiments in my shop. He operates in the Iron Man suits.”

Tony rubbed around his arc reactor, feeling as though a part of him were missing. “He was connected to my sunglasses.”

“Was?”

“As in past tense. Not anymore.” Steve scowled as Tony took the lenses off his face and held them out to Steve, tossing the useless things hopelessly in the air. They seemed to float in the air between them, falling like a dead leaf until Steve caught them.

“Jarvis broadcasts, he’s not an upload. No Jarvis; no Earth. There’s no other explanation.”

“I don’t understand.”

Tony sighed, and leaned back into the tree. Discussing his tech, even if it was about a problem, was familiar and comforting, the words were coming easier now. “Most people think Jarvis is a passenger, like a little butler in the glasses and the suits. But the server is on Earth; Jarvis is actually broadcasting to them. Streaming, essentially.”

“Like Netflix?”  
  


“Yeah, kind of.” Tony let out a bitter laugh. “Think of your laptop, tv, or whatever. It doesn’t have the shows downloaded onto it. You need to be connected to the signal to access the programs.”

“Your tech needs to be connected to the server to access Jarvis.” Steve finished, and Tony confirmed with a sad nod. “Okay, I get that.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor.” Because, let’s be honest, there was no way the sorting hat would even need to touch Steve’s head to paint him a brave lion.

Steve ignored the comment. Did he even get it?If Steve hadn’t read or watched Harry Potter yet, Tony could stop feeling bad about harassing the guy. “But what if the server crashed or you’re signal is weak? Why does this mean we’re not on Earth?”

Right. Now wasn’t the time to contemplate Harry Potter. It was a good question. For a man born without any of this technology, Steve was quick. “I designed his server myself—there’s no place on Earth he can’t reach. Jarvis’ back-ups have back-ups.”

“And what if you’re not as brilliant as you think you are?”

For once, Tony knew Steve’s words weren’t meant as an insult. The soldier was just trying to figure out their situation, and Tony couldn’t blame him.

“Then we pick a direction and hope we find the car.”

Steve nodded grimly, and for the first time in his life, Tony wished he wasn’t a genius.

\--------

After combining their survival knowledge—which was impressively inadequate for how many people called them superheroes—and scanning for moss and sides of trees with overgrowth—which was unshockingly less than helpful—they had made their best guess at south. Marching in that direction, Tony tried his best to not think.

Like all the other times he had tried to shut off his brain—without the help of a handle of vodka—it didn’t work well. But denial had always come easy to him, so he kept silent, and they kept walking.

And it seemed like that’s all they were going to be doing for a _very_ long time. They had to have been walking for over two hours, neither of them daring to say what they were both thinking: Either they had picked the wrong direction, or Tony was right, and they had much bigger problems than being late for a meeting with Fury.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, signaling it was the late afternoon. Sunlight peeked through the trees, mocking them in a joyful dance among a never-ending stage branches and leaves.

Steve broke the silence first: “If we’re in here at night, we’re going to need shelter.”

Tony didn’t want to think about that, either. “We should keep moving up this hill. Maybe we can find high ground and get our bearings.”

Neither of them mentioned that there had been no hills where they had left the car. In fact, they’d been ignoring that for several hours now.

Somewhere along the way, Steve had picked up a jagged rock and a sturdy branch. Now, he held a simple spear in his hand, tied together with a piece of vine. He was ready for something, but for what, Tony couldn’t say.

Bears? Boars? Aliens? The probability of each was unknown.

A cold chill ran through Tony’s body, reminding him of the time his father had made him sleep outside after finding him in his room with a boy. Tony kept walking; he did not want to sleep under the stars tonight.

More time passed in silence. What were they supposed to say to each other? Falling into a foreign world hadn’t changed the fact that they had nothing but animosity between them. Besides, Tony was too busy worrying over the fact that he didn’t have his suits here to care about much more. 

He lagged behind Steve and ran through equations in his mind, warding off his hostile thoughts. It did no good to consider how much easier everything would have been if he had a suit. Instead, he was nothing. Useless.

“You want the good or bad news?” Steve hollered through the trees up ahead. 

Tony didn’t bother calling back, waiting until he made the short climb to reach Steve. When he broke through the clearing onto a cliff, his insides lurched. “Definitely not on Earth,” he whispered, hollowly.

“That’s the bad news.” Steve agreed.

“That’s an understatement,” Tony muttered.

A towering fortress of golden towers, elegant turrets, balconies and bridges jutted out of the trees, invading the sky. It was easily the most grandiose thing Tony had ever seen—and he’d grown up surrounded by spoiled rich people.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve breathed out, and Tony nodded his agreement.

Small buildings, looking like shops more than homes, formed a path leading up to a towering gate. The shops began just below the cliff he and Steve were standing on and seemed to beckon them onward.

Gauzy clouds had sailed into a position covering the sun and hung low in the sky. The land was cast into a haze of shadows which lessened the comfort Tony had felt from seeing signs of civilization.

“We could do worse for shelter.” Tony half-heartedly tried to a joke.

“Should we risk it? There’s no one down there.” Steve pointed out, squinting as though his more than perfect vision was feeding him false information. “Where is everyone?”

As if answering his question, a rush of frantic footsteps sounded from behind them. Steve gripped his spear tightly and took a step forward in front of Tony.

This was it. This would be the help they needed or the enemy they didn’t want to know existed.

The footsteps grew louder, and a tall, lean girl jumped from the shadows, skidding to a stop. Her eyes landed on Steve’s spear and her mouth parted in a squeak of surprised fear.

With her eyes trained the weapon, she spoke: “I don’t mean any harm! I’m sorry—I’m—I just” She took a breath to collect herself.

Tony pushed the spear downward, pointing it away from the girl.

She radiated relief: “Has it already started? Did I miss it?”

“Miss what?” Steve asked.

“Thrimilci, of course!” She worried her lip, “But it couldn’t have begun yet, it’s not supposed to start until nightfall.”

“Thrimilici?”

She paced back and worth worriedly, not hearing Steve’s confusion. It was as if she had completely forgot that only moments before a spear had been pointed in her direction. “I finally got an invitation—I’ve been wanting one forever—I’m not sure why it happened this year, but I’m so excited that I did! The Magician has his reasons, they say.”

“Magician?” The girl was speaking so fast, it rivaled even the way Tony spoke when ramped up on caffeine. Neither Steve nor Tony knew what was going on, but maybe he had heard her wrong.

“Did you get an invitation as well? Will you watch or play? The prize is a wish this year—isn’t that crazy? Imagine what you could do with a wish! But I’m not sure … I’m almost frightened to play.”

The girl was, moving too quickly to notice their confusion or wait for a response: “You’d better hurry—they close the gates at midnight! Could you imagine coming all this way and being left outside?”

Before Steve or Tony could get in another word the girl was off, darting towards an obscured path to the left of the cliff. “Maybe I’ll see you there!” Her voice rang from down below.

Tony and Steve looked at each other, too stunned to speak just yet. Apparently, he had been foolish to think things couldn’t get any more perplexing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! School has only just started and I'm already dead tired. Hope everyone is doing well, and sorry that I missed a week of posting. This chapter has really heavy influence from Caravel, so, like always, anything that you recognize or think is exceptionally good isn't mine.

“I don’t even think I was this confused when I had suddenly grown a foot and gained abs from a science experiment.” Steve breathed out.

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up as he nodded his agreement: this was getting to be absurd. “Any idea what Thrimilici could be?”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, “No clue. But I know I want to be inside by nightfall.” His eyes darted around, landing on the hidden pathway the girl had taken.

“You want to follow her?”

Steve nodded and they reluctantly left the pristine view, pushing aside leaves and twigs that grabbed at them, seeming to warn them off their journey. Bits of piney needles stuck to their clothes, and Tony’s tired feet sought for grip on the rocky path. Nothing was easy.

“At least we look like them, otherwise that could have gone a bit differently,” Tony offered, in a sad attempt at optimism.

“We understand them too.” Steve was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again his words were wistful. “Maybe we’re still on Earth?”

Tony let silence answer for him—they both knew this wasn’t their home. He voiced his own concern: “I still don’t understand why we haven’t seen anyone else.”

“Let’s just hope they’re all at that game.”

“Because hope is always a practical plan of attack.” Tony muttered to himself.

“It’s better than nothing.”

Tony glared at Steve’s side. “You shouldn’t be allowed to comment on anything that someone without super hearing wouldn’t hear.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up, as if daring Tony to test out what other strengths the soldier had. A frightening desire within him wanted to take the dare.

Tony kicked at a stone, watching as it grew smaller, tumbling to the far away ground and dashing against the rugged terrain of rocks and fallen logs.

It was amazing how much more terrifying falling was when you had been able to fly. 

The path that had once been neatly carved into the cliff had become a rough trail as it cut a jagged route down the steep cliff. Boulders, fallen trees and overgrown shrubbery obstructed their way. It seemed as though every ounce of nature was against their journey—and Tony couldn’t disagree.

Optimism had never been his forte.

Sudden anger washed over Tony, hardening his vision. Why the hell did things like this keep happening to him? Was there some great cosmic plan with the only goal of screwing Tony Stark?

If so, Tony could think of _a lot_ more enjoyable ways for him to be screwed—and none of them involved Steve Rogers.

“Do you realize how horrible this is?” The question burst from his chest, frightening away the silence.

“Could be a lot worse.”

Tony blew out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I can think of a lot of worse things than getting stuck on an alien planet, _without_ my suits and _with_ you.”

“You’re just complaining—as if that somehow will make things better.”

“You really can’t stand me, can you?” Tony called to Steve “It’s kind of impressive—I’ve never actually had someone this pissed off at me for no apparent reason. I usually give pretty good reasons, too.”

“What can I say? You make it so easy not to like you.”

“Clearly.”

Tony pushed ahead of Steve, brushing his shoulder angrily on the way. Howard had spent his whole adulthood worshiping him as a perfect man; Tony had grown up surrounded by Captain America action figures, movies and t-shirts—countless kids had. But at the end of the day, Steve was just another screwed up, human being, fully equipped with brooding rage, turbulent thoughts, and premature judgment.

It was something Steve failed to realize, apparently: even when he was silent, Steve seemed to be telling Tony he was better than him. No one deserved to be this righteous; war-hero or not.

Even when he was silent, Steve seemed to be telling Tony he was better than him. A sinister voice inside of him whispered that Steve was right. Tony’s life had been full of people who had left him behind—all for good reasons.

Tony barreled down the path—wilder than nature itself, letting out steam on the branches that he violently yanked out of his path and the rocks that he aggressively hurdled himself over. He hated how aware he was of the space between him and Steve. It wasn’t enough.

One moment his feet pounded against the rugged path, beating the earth into submission; and the next—he wasn’t touching anything.

He was falling.

Tony swung his arms violently, grappling for anything to cling on to but grasping only air. His stomach hit his throat as the world turned into a blur of color.

When he hit the surface, water drowned everything, shocking his senses alive. His nose filled with freezing water and his lungs fought to make oxygen out of liquid. Tony’s chest screamed for air as he fought and struggled towards the surface. He swam towards the light, praying that way was up. 

Hair clung to his forehead as he broke free, and water poured down his face. His clothes clung to his shaking body, threatening to drag him under again. Tony kicked furiously, trying to keep them from going numb as much as he was trying to stay afloat.

The shore was a blurry mix of greens and tans, but he could tell it wasn’t too far away. He didn’t move towards it. He wasn’t really there.

Water kept pouring over his face. Over and over, it filled his mouth, tinged with the metallic twang of blood. 

They were shouting at him, screaming in his ear, but it wasn’t English. He tried to tell him that he didn’t understand, but it came out a blubbering mess of shivers and sputtering. It was already dark in the cave, but the water made it even harder to see.

Something grabbed at his arm and pulled. Hard.

His arm was going to be yanked out of his socket as he was dragged through the water and thrown to the ground, bouncing against the rocky sand. Tony lashed out—and heard a satisfying grunt when his hand made hard contact with something.

“Stop!” he cried out, praying someone would understand him. “Please—I don’t—Help!”

The gruff voice was still calling out, but the jumbled mess of foreign sounds had turned into something familiar. The muted sound of his name fought to get past the frigid water that had filled his ears. He clung to the voice, anchoring himself to something familiar instead of the violence in his mind.

Tony screwed his eyes tight and struggled to all fours, spitting up water, his body shook violently with cold and shock. How many more days would pass like this?

He rubbed at his chest, desperately trying to gain some warmth, his hand colliding with the smooth metal of the arc reactor. He latched on to it, his waterlogged eyes shooting open.

_The arc reactor._

He couldn’t be in Afghanistan. He couldn’t. There wasn’t a car battery attached to him; the sand under his knees and the breeze in the wind were not found in the cave. It was just a flashback _. Because something else needed to go wrong today._

Tony heard his name again, and this time the voice was familiar, filling him with a bit of much needed warmth. _Steve._

Tony struggled to stand up, pushing Steve’s hand away when he reached out to help. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

“What happened? Jesus, Tony. Are you okay?” Steve looked deathly pale, and Tony imagined he didn’t look much better. “God, I was so worried.”

Tony must have misheard; water was still in his ears, and he was sure Steve had been wishing he would fall off a cliff right before it actually happened. He ignored Steve’s until the man grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him over for injuries.

His lip was split and Tony realized that must have been what he had hit when he was fighting and flailing his arm. The familiar sting of guilt washed over his senses.

Tony pushed him off yet again, “I’m okay—really!” He tried to sound annoyed, but his shivering made him sound much more fragile than anything. He tried giving Steve a lopsided smile, the one he used for getting away with things, “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to go for a swim?”

The look Steve gave him was threatening and scary.

“That I wanted to test gravity?”

“Tony…” Steve trailed off in exasperated worry, his eyes raking over Tony’s body for injuries and answers, leaving no part untouched. When their eyes met Steve’s latched on to his, looking beneath the skin with troubled blue eyes.

There was a bit of green in them, Tony realized, making them a much prettier color than the water he’d just swan-dived into. “What happened?”

What did he want to hear? Did Steve need further confirmation from him that he was self-destructive—whether purposefully or not?

“I fell.” Tony explained, lamely.

“Yes, I _saw_ that!” Steve shouted. “I saw you drop _off of a cliff_. I’m talking about after that—when you were acting like I was trying to kill you!”

Tony tried not to flinch at Steve’s accurate description. Hearing it from someone else made it seem frighteningly more real. “I’m fine.” he repeated quickly,” trying to assure himself as much as he was Steve. His attempt was seriously undercut by some delayed coughing up of water.

The sun was low in the sky now, and darkness threatened to overcome them. Steve looked at him intensely, with something Tony couldn’t name. His eyes reflected the evening sky. “We should keep moving, or I’m going to freeze.”

Steve nodded his agreement. “You need to get out of those clothes.”

Tony choked—again. “I’m sorry did you just ask me to undress?”

“No! I mean yes. Wait.” Steve’s face was a furious shade of red, “Could you ever go easy on me? Just once?”

  
Tony grinned. “If all it takes is hypothermia for you to ask me to undress, I would’ve cliff dived a lot sooner.”

Tony trailed off at Steve’s glare, pulling at the stiff, soaked fabric around his legs. His jeans clung to him like soggy cardboard, threatening to chafe in all the wrong places as they started walking. He stifled his shivering, running through equations in his mind to block out the cold as they continued their seemingly endless walking.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Steve eventually said when they stopped, after the dirt path had transformed into a firmer road paved with prismatic, glittering, stones. The cobbled road stretched farther than the eye could see—disappearing into the towering gates that pressed into the sky.

Tony kept walking.

“Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos! I'd be really interested to have comments on what people like/don't like about my writing style!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! sorry this is so late. 
> 
> I'm not really happy with this chapter, but I wanted to get something up. There will be more action soon, I promise!

The road before them multiplied in different directions into a maze of twisting streets. All were lined with mismatched, rounded shops and carts—each painted shades of vibrant jewels or calm pastels. The stores were piled upon each other, sloppily arranged in gravity-defying stacks like an out of control pile of To-Be-Read books.

It was charming and enchanting, but even more unnaturally still than Steve had noted on the cliff. The shops were closed and their windows dark.

Steve urged him down the curious street.

Tony didn’t know if his fatigue or the cold was making him hallucinate—it wouldn’t have been the first time—but on top of unnerving stillness, the shop signs didn’t make any sense.

_Come Back Yesterday!_

_Closed: Try Again Whenever!_

_You Know When We’re Open._

“Everything’s closed.” Tony shivered.

Steve reached out and wrapped an arm around him.

  
Tony stiffened.

“I’m just trying to keep you warm,” Steve’s voice was matter of fact, but his eyes were narrowed.

“You’re freezing too.” Tony pointed to Steve’s lower half, soaked from when he’d grabbed Tony from the river. “We just need to keep moving,” he said, pretending not to hear the chatter in his own voice.

They quickened their pace, passing the most curious shops Tony had ever seen. One shop sold wishes, while another advertised doors that could take you to any place you wanted to go.

There were diners that claimed to feed your desires sat next to a shop selling plants that guarded homes. Suits of armor and seeds that grew dreams; bags that could fit anything in them and eyeglasses that could see the soul.

Bottled dreams and nightmares were offered in one shop that was perched on top of a particularly scary looking window advertising mirrors that could show the darkness in one’s heart.

Tony looked away from that one quickly. “I think the cold is starting to screw with my vision.” His words came out sounding shaken and far away. 

“I see it too,” Steve’s voice was quiet, probably trying to decide if the shop signs spoke truth or not. Tony was trying to determine the same, and the possibilities prickled at the back of his neck.

He tried a few doorknobs but nothing budged.

“There!” Steve pointed down the road, reading a sign that was farther away than any normal man’s vision could see. “Falon’s Formal Wear. Sign says _Always Open._ ” 

They bustled down the street in a blur, the prospect of warmth energizing their steps.

The door creaked as it swung open, and they stepped into a small store filled with hats and clothing. Fabric in every imaginable color lined one wall, some shimmered like the night sky while others glistened with soft fur.

Steve called out to the empty room, hearing nothing but his soft echo in response. The small, long table at the front was abandoned, the shop as quiet as the entire town.

At least it was warm, Tony thought.

His eyes caught on the fireplace blazing at the side of the room. Tony’s feet stumbled over each other as he practically ran to the fire: the cold had reached his bones and his teeth were chattering.

His limbs prickled painfully with the warmth, but he was still frozen to the bone. Steve had been right: he needed to get out of his clothes.

Tony looked around to find something that would fit him. His choices were limited to extravagant variations on suits and tuxes that were all stunning. One in a heavy glass box claimed it could turn the wearer invisible. On a better day, Tony’s curiosity would have gotten the best of him, but instead he grabbed a suit near to him and the fire.

The deep maroon of the suit flashed in the light of the dancing flames. The coat looked like a mixture of a classic blazer and a classic suit jacket; it tapered at the back into a short tail. The trousers’ cuffs were ribbed, cinching at the ankles. A soft shirt of the same color hung underneath the jacket.

“That’s stealing.” Steve’s disapproving tone grated in his ears.

Tony jerked around, still gripping the suit. “If I’m being completely honest, I don’t see how that’s relevant right now.” Who in their right mind would be concerned about thievery while they were stranded on an alien planet?

“It’s wrong.”  
  


“So is hypothermia!” Tony exclaimed, incredulous. “Or did you want to strip and spoon for warmth?”

Steve flustered, “No! I only—Could you just wait a second? Maybe there’s someone in the back, or we could at least leave a note.”

“Fine.” Tony sighed, putting the suit back on the rack. The cold had begun to seep from his bones, but it was replaced by a chilling exhaustion. He fumed to himself as they both looked around the shop for an employee, not surprised when they found the back of the shop as empty as the front.

Tony made his way back to the fire and his suit, already sliding the belt from his pants. Again, his attempt for warmth was foiled by Steve, who called his name from the front of store.

Anger shaded Tony’s thoughts, and he continued to put on the suit. “Do you know how irritating you are?”

“Just get over here!”

With an exaggerated sigh, Tony dragged himself over to Steve, who was standing near the front table and frowning at a box as though it had personally attacked him. The white package glittered, seeming to attract all of the light in the room. A translucent, deep green ribbon snaked delicately around it.

A gift.

“Where’d you find that?” Tony asked.

“Nowhere,” Steve answered. Because that made sense. “It just showed up. It wasn’t here and then when I turned around, it was.” 

Tony’s pulse quickened, and his eyes darted around the store. “Is someone here?”

Steve shook his head, “We checked every inch of this store—there is no way we missed someone. And I would have heard the door open.”

Part of Tony wanted to scream, but another, scarier part of him wanted to laugh hysterically at the sheer lunacy of the day. “Maybe there are, like, tiny people in this world, or something?” His eyes darted to the suit that claimed it could turn the wearer invisible, but it was still there.

Steve looked at Tony like he was a mad man.

“I don’t know, Rogers!” Tony threw his hands in the air, “It doesn’t seem too far-fetched that a place where you can buy bottled dreams also has invisible gift-bearing creatures!”

Steve shook his head, but he didn’t disagree—neither of them knew what they were dealing with. The soldier stepped closer, squinting at the package. A vein in his neck popped outward and his face paled.

“It has my name on it.”

Tony took a step closer. A forest green tag with Steve’s name written in shimmering, gold script was tied to the ribbon with matching golden thread.

“Open it.” 

“Are you crazy? We don’t know what it is,” Steve reasoned, his eyes searching Tony for any indication of sanity. “We don’t even know how it got here.”

“Do you think someone is watching us?” Tiny fairy people may have been far-fetched, but clearly someone was paying attention.

Steve’s face scrunched in concern and he worried his bottom lip. “I don’t know. But I don’t think we should open it.”

“I don’t know, Rogers. Someone clearly went through a lot of trouble to give you that gift.” Tony’s hands drummed on his side. “You don’t want to piss off the aliens.” It was a poor attempt at a joke, and the tilted smile he gave Steve melted quickly at the soldier’s funny look. 

Slowly, as though it could spring to life at any moment, Steve went to undo the ribbon, but stopped short, his hand hovering in the air. “Am I seeing things or is my name gone?”

Tony stepped closer, seeing what had startled Steve. Where his name had been only moments ago was now a note scrawled in elegant script handwriting.

Tony nudged Steve out of the way and picked up the card. Sure enough, it was the same material and ink Steve’s name had been written in. He read it out loud:

**_To the most honored guests of Thrimilici, Steven Rogers_ **

****

**_A warm welcome to the both of you. Please accept this gift as my cordial invitation to Thrimilici. I believe your friend has already selected one himself._ **

****

**_The fun and games have yet to begin, but Thrimilici waits for no one._ **

**_-The Magician_ **

“This is insane” Tony concluded the letter.

Steve looked at him and nodded shortly, his jaw set. “This is the same chap that girl mentioned. The Magician.”

Tony nodded, motioning for Steve to continue with the unwrapping.

Steve slowly removed the lid like he was diffusing a bomb: methodically and carefully, as he did everything. How exhausting was it, to hold back all that raw power all the time? 

Two square cards rested on top of tissue paper.

“Invitations,” Tony breathed out.

Steve handed them to Tony and pulled out his gift. “It’s a suit.”

The only sound was the crackling fireplace as they both stared at it. It was certainly something to behold—nothing at all what either of them had thought it would look like.

“It’s ugly.” Steve said finally, summing up everything Tony had been thinking. 

The drab, colorless beige suit resembled a sack of potatoes, and Tony said as much, earning him a sharp look from Steve. “Guess I can’t be hurt I didn’t get a gift anymore.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth quirked at the sarcasm. A partial smile? Who knew the soldier could do such a thing.

Tony looked at the invitations, golden writing glistened on the back of more green paper.

“We’ve got to get dressed quickly, Rogers. The gates close at midnight—that’s only a few hours away, assuming time works the same way around here.”

“You want to play?” Worry tinged Steve’s expression, drawing his brows into a frown.

Tony hadn’t really thought about _not_ playing, really. It seemed as though his life was one big game after another, and this was no different. He was just playing for higher stakes now. Tony nodded, “Maybe this Magician guy will help us get home. And out here, what are we going to eat? Where would we sleep? How would we pay for anything? I don’t really see any other options.”

Steve’s head bobbled as he mulled over Tony’s words, his mouth drawn into a grim line. “I have a terrible feeling about this.”

Tony didn’t disagree, but he grinned anyway, forcing the feeling away. “Game on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is essentially Caravel with Tony and Steve, so none of this is mine!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Its been crazy with midterms, but it is fall break so I am going to write as much as I can — thank you for being patient. There is a welcome to Thrimilici speech here that is taken directly from Caravel, and as usual — almost none of this is mine: the plot, world, characters and more are either Caravel or Marvel's!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Tony began kicking off his waterlogged shoes unbuckling his belt but Steve wasn’t moving. Instead, his eyes were darting back and forth between his own bland clothes and Tony’s.

“You going to watch me undress, Capsicle? Because I don’t mind.” To prove his point, Tony slithered his belt off of him completely.

Steve’s cheeks flushed red and he fixed his eyes on the carpet below him. “If you turn your back, we can both change.”

“We can both change facing each other too,” Tony grinned, taking far too much satisfaction n the way the tips of Steve’s ears matched his pink cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant.” Steve grumbled, turning around himself.

Tony’s grin slackened the moment he saw Steve’s back. He ripped off his soggy t-shirt and hurriedly pulled the maroon one over his head. The soft material clung to his body like an embrace. Despite his talk, Tony was relieved Steve wasn’t seeing his naked chest.

Tony had grown comfortable with the arc reactor in his chest and the scars that littered his body, but Steve would want to ask questions.

Those were stories Steve didn’t want to hear about things he didn’t want to see.

Tony slid into the slacks and went to retrieve the matching socks and shoes from by the fireplace. In the process, he caught sight of his reflection in a long, elegant mirror at the end of the room.

The suit fit perfectly, as if tailored specifically for him—and it probably was. Gven everything that had happened here, it wouldn’t be surprising. The deep maroon emphasized his dark eyes and gave color to his face. The tail of the coat elongated his torso and gave him the illusion of height which he sorely lacked.

He turned away from his reflection, pulled on the socks and shoes, and was taken aback by the sight of Steve when he returned to the front of the store.

A strange heat pooled inside of him as a breath escaped his lips. “Damn.”

Steve’s head snapped up, eyebrows knit in confusion.

“I take it back,” Tony grinned, “I’m definitely jealous.”

Tony stepped aside, nodding to the mirror in the back. For a moment, all he and Tony could do was stare. It really wasn’t fair that someone could look so perfect. 

Steve’s suit had transformed into a stunning sea of dark blue, like the color of confidence or intelligence. A stylish row of shimmering silver buttons ran down the front. Matching threads glistened throughout the suit, weaved through the blue in a elegant wave of pattern. Even the shoes had turned from a dull beige to matching blue suede.

Steve ran his hands lightly over the material of the suit. Tony wondered if it was a trick of the light or if the water he’d fallen into had permanently damaged his vision. But deep down Tony knew there was only one explanation.

“Magic?” Steve’s eyes were wide. The blues of his eyes were electrifying, matching his attire.

“It’s not any tech I’ve ever seen,” Tony admitted. But magic? Tony rubbed at the arc reactor as his mind tried to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. There had to be an explanation—there was no such thing as magic. Tiny mirrors, or multicolored thread, was woven into the suit maybe.

They stared at it in disbelief for another minute, until Tony realized how much time they were wasting. “We’ve got to go if we’re going to make it in time, Rogers.”

Steve agreed and they set off, reluctantly leaving the warmth of the shop for the night’s chill. The stars hung like jewels in the sky, shimmering brighter than anything Tony had seen before. It was otherworldly, but it brought calmness to his mind.

They walked quickly, Tony having to take giant steps to keep up with Steve’s breakneck pace. They reached the gate just in time.

“Welcome!” A man greeted them with open arms. His luminous white coat gleamed even brighter against his dark, midnight skin, seeming to match the stars up above. “Do you have an invitation?”

Tony pulled them out of his coat pocket and handed them to the man.

The guard’s eyes went wide: “You two are the guests I’ve been hearing about, then? I recognize the names!”

Steve gave a sideways look to Tony, who shrugged, nodding to the man, “We sure are.” He put on his flashiest smile, “You wouldn’t know where he is, would you? Could you point us in the direction?” Maybe they could skip the game and go straight home.

The man laughed, a full-bodied sound that implied Tony’s question was the funniest joke he had heard. “No one knows where he is!” the man got out, when he had regained control. “He takes on a new form each game, always working behind the scenes but always right under your nose.”

Tony’s face fell. How could they ask a man for help if no one knew who he was?

The guard must have read the disappointment on Tony’s face. “Not to worry,” he said. “Win the game and he’ll grant your wish!”

The man ushered them inside the gate, closing the giant doors behind them. They had entered into a giant garden that spread out before them in a vegetative fantasy. Glowing bugs and plants sparkled against the dark sky and their light danced on the vibrant colors of exotic flowers. 

Two paths cut their way through the vegetation, going in opposite directions.

The guard cleared his throat, recapturing Tony and Steve’s focus.

“ _Welcome to Thrimilici! Here you’ll experience more wonders than most people see in a lifetime. You can sip magic from a cup and buy dreams in a bottle. But before you fully enter into our world, you must remember that it’s all a game. What happens beyond this gate may frighten or excite you, but don’t let any of it trick you. We will try to convince you it’s real, but all of it is a performance. A world built of make-believe and magic. So while we want you to get swept away, be careful of being swept too far away. Dreams that come true can be beautiful, but they can also turn into nightmares when people won’t wake up.”_

Magic? Dreams? Though he had been joking about magic before, the speech had suddenly made everything seem all very real. He had the horrible feeling that he was entering a game like Jumanji, though he had been given no guarantee of pieces being reset at the end.

The man gestured to the paths. “Players to the right, watchers to the left. The game begins at sunset tomorrow night.” He handed the tickets back to Tony. “But you must find your lodgings before daybreak.”

Tony looked down at the invitations, where now only two words were written on them, the same on each: _La Stulta._ The name of where they had to go before morning came, apparently.

Steve spoke up, “What happens at daybreak?”

The man grinned wolfishly and exited back out of the gates, leaving Steve’s question lingering in the air. They turned around and began walking.

But they went in different directions.

Tony sighed, “Don’t tell me you’ve come all this way just to watch, Rogers? Didn’t we already go over this?”

Exasperation lined Steve’s face, aging him. He pulled at the bottom of his coat. “You don’t even know what this game is, and yet you want to play?”

“No. I want to win.” Tony was just as surprised as Steve looked to be, honestly. He didn’t quite know what was compelling him to be so bold.

“You could get killed.”

“That is the less favorable option, yes.” Tony raised an eyebrow, “How do you know that your way won’t get you killed either? You could be walking into a den of aliens who want to eat your brains.”

“You could be doing the same.”

“At least I’ll have a fair fight in a game. And no one we’ve met so far has been any threat to us, or did you forget that it was you who raised a spear to a girl in the woods?”

Steve ignored the jab, though anger flashed in his eyes. “You’re being reckless Tony. Could you at least think about it, before you go rushing off and fall down another cliff?” Steve’s eyes narrowed accusingly at him.

His suit had transformed into a dark, stormy grey, complete with edgy tapering and smoky shoes. Apparently, Steve’s suit changed to match his mood — but Tony was too angry to feel anything than minor fascination.

“How is this reckless, Rogers? You heard what that girl said. The prize is a wish. If we win, the Magician can get us home. I need to get home.”

“And I need to stay alive, Tony. It doesn’t matter where the hell you are if you’re dead!”

“I can take care of myself.” Tony’s voice was hard and low, a mix between a threat and a promise.

“Because you’ve done such a good job of that already.”

Tony’s anger bubbled within him. “Do what you want to do, Rogers. I’m playing. I’m winning. And I’m going home.” His eyes narrowed. “With or without you.”

Steve’s jaw ticked as he weighed his options, and Tony tried his best not to storm off alone. Bust something told him that Steve would cave.

“We shouldn’t split up,” Rogers said, finally. 

Tony smirked. _Gotcha_. Tony turned around and began walking down the path of fine sand that veered to the right. “Then don’t.”

He let out a tense breath moments later when he heard Steve’s footsteps behind him.

“Tool.” Steve muttered, when he had caught up to Tony.

“Prick,” Tony shot back, rolling the tension from his shoulders and pressing onward. He had a game to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments or kudos, I'd love to know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos! Let me know what you think!


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